


I wanna touch on you; they see us in the room

by Harudesuyo



Series: Horror: because humans are the scariest creatures [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bad Dirty Talk, Cheating, Choking, Dirty Talk, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, I'll probably edit this; again, M/M, Mind Break, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Streamer Kenma, Voyeurism, i can't write smut, mentions of impregnating men, no beta reader; again, thinking if I should add a 3p
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harudesuyo/pseuds/Harudesuyo
Summary: Whenever 'IncuKen' comes online to post something to his faceless, nameless, ageless fans there's always proof he's doing well.The only reassurance Kenma needs in life is the dings from his phone that notify him of the fruits of his labor. That's what he thought. Until he puts his hand on Yaku and realizes he wants to touch on him. More. Like an insatiable thirst. This is the first time that a voice meant more to him than a sound from his phone.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke, Kozume Kenma/Yaku Morisuke, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Series: Horror: because humans are the scariest creatures [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982488
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	I wanna touch on you; they see us in the room

**Author's Note:**

> full disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, obviously, and this is another part of my 'psychological horror' series so please do not read if Haikyuu characters are your comfort characters! Nothing in this is wholesome and this is NOT how I see the characters in the anime or manga.
> 
> This is part 2 of a series, please read part 1 or you'll probably be confused. Also, after reading this you can't read part 1 the same way as this whole story itself is a spoiler.
> 
> In reference to the titles: yes, this totally came to me randomly as I was listening to Cyber Sex by Doja Cat

Yaku thinks it was really nice of Kuroo to let him have a sleepover at Kenma's house over the weekend, and he was excited to catch up with his friend. Of course, Kuroo and Kenma had been friends longer, but as fellow 'small people' Yaku felt like there were times when they understood each other better (or, at the very least, they could rant about how idiotic Kuroo was). Apparently Hinata was away on one of his spontaneous artistic adventures (he did this from time to time, so nobody was surprised) but Kenma stated that this time he was feeling quite lonely. Yaku thought the perfect way to cheer him up was a night of video games and lots of snacks.

"Kenma~" Yaku jumps into his arms as soon as the door is opened and received a panicked pat on the back.

"I stink, I haven't showered in a while," Kenma shyly backs away, but Yaku waves at him. As if that really mattered. They were guys anyway, it wasn't like Yaku expected to smell daisies and vanilla and sweets.

"It's okay, you were probably trying to advance on a new game, right? Hahah, silly, was it that fun?"

Kenma's eyes widen as Yaku casually flings off his shoes. Usually people (mainly Hinata and Kuroo and his parents) would sigh or knock him on the head and nag to take care of himself. It's not that he couldn't, and it's not like he wouldn't - sometimes he just didn't want to. Yaku was the first that realized he was simply having too much fun to put the device down.

Yaku was always like this. The first to talk to him at the store, even though it was clear he was misunderstanding Kenma's fixed gaze, Yaku still smiled first. At that time Kenma had been convinced it was just because the man wanted to keep his job and was being polite. Two greetings turned to four which turned to questions about what he was playing. When even Kenma's one-answer grunts couldn't turn him away, the gamer finally scummed to Yaku's bright personality and smiled back.

Ever since then they had been this tentative thing called 'friends.' Although, that would probably soon end. Kenma doesn't know why, but that thought sends an extra hard pulse through his chest. It's followed by an immediate dark whisper. He doesn't want whatever to end. The soft cheeky smiles Yaku sends his way, the unguarded back as he fills the counter with grocery bags, the light laugh as he shares a meaningless story. What if Kenma never gets to see that again?

"Yaku," Kenma grips the device in his hand.

"Humm?" Yaku turns, closing the fridge slowly as he tilts his head.

"Can you promise me something?" Kenma asks.

In his mind, he knows it's unfair to coax this promise out of Yaku when the other doesn't have a single clue about what was about to happen. Of course, Yaku being Yaku would promise whatever to his friends. He was the type to fully devote himself to people he trusted. It was a stupidly dangerous quirk of his. Kenma hated it. Detested that part of Yaku that was so open and giving and generous. Trash like himself or Kuroo or Lev could take advantage so easily... Kenma was sure he hated that naivety yet-

"Kenma, what is it?"

Impulse, instinct, desire, and an infectious warmth that made his whole body buzz with energy ever time Yaku paid attention to him. They always won over his logic.

"Whatever happens today, you can't hate me," Kenma lets moisture pool in his eyes and Yaku's expression fills with surprise as he immediately runs closer to where Kenma is standing. Two strong hands grip Kenma's shoulder as he continues, "You can't say you don't want to see me again and you can't unlove me, okay?"

Yaku's face fills with worry. Of all things. Kenma wants to laugh and tell him to stop. He should be worried about himself. But the face is so stunning, so open and vulnerable. Kenma can almost feel his stomach emptying out because it craves for more. Yaku's upturned eyebrows, his eyes brimming with emotions Kenma may never have himself. "Of course, Kenma," Yaku whispers. "I'll always love you."

It hurts because that's definitely not the same things Kuroo gets to hear. Ah. Maybe he should kill that idiot of a rooster head before it ends up the other way around. Wasn't that fair though? In the first place, Kenma had been the one who befriended Yaku first, he'd known the guy longer, knew more about his life, his ambitions in college. Wasn't Kuroo the one who got in his way? Borrowing Yaku as a trade for keeping Kuroo's secret was half bullshit. He wasn't borrowing anything! Yaku was his first before he had become Kuroo's. What's to say Yaku wouldn't come back to him?

"Hinata and I," Kenma swallows thickly. This wasn't really a lie, was it? This was a scenario. He was just acting right now, and Yaku didn't have to know all the details. Just the circumstances. Yaku's hand comes up to caress his cheek once he hears the shaky voice, and Kenma almost falters. He, despite what people may think, does feel horrible about this. "We're not boyfriends."

Yaku lets out a loud gasp, "what?"

Kenma adverts his eyes. He knows he's being extra cruel. For whatever reason, possibly because Yaku didn't have a good concept about love and he didn't have too many friends around him, Yaku thought of Hinata and Kenma as the 'ideal couple' in his mind. Kenma couldn't really tell himself why. It was true, he spent time with Hinata, they took care of their needs, they didn't fight, they took on the household chores together, but he doesn't know what Yaku could have seen that really engraved the notion of 'these two are truly in love' into his mind. Kenma, at the least, had never felt that way. Whenever Yaku gushed about how Kenma was different around Hinata and had softer eyes or a nicer tone in his voice he had felt like throwing up. There was no such illusions in his own mind that he loved Hinata. Perhaps though, letting Yaku indulge in that story this whole time while pinning for his attention had been unfair.

Well, it wasn't like Kenma's feelings towards Yaku had such grand or pure intentions either. Love? What did that encompass? Truly, nobody could tell him. They use a lot of other words to describe 'love' and it's never the same thing from anybody. Some say it's loyalty, not hurting your mate, a desire, happiness. However, no human could possibly give him that. The only thing Kenma was loyal to was something that was also loyal back. Something that didn't betray him, couldn't hurt him, brought him happiness despite the old ones saying it couldn't possibly. The only thing that Kenma could say he 'loved' was money. It was his owner, the more he owned it. A real symbiotic relationship. The catharsis he got from seeing it pile up after the fruits of his labor was unmatched. It was the validation of others, a symbol of approval, it was useful, it was endless. Money did not discriminate. It didn't avoid him because he was short, or thin, or because he liked games. Actually, it was what allowed him to do what he loved in the environment he loved. Alone. Money had really been all he needed.

That was until Hinata came along. Like a bright burning orb of sunshine, he was quite the opposite of Kenma. Hinata didn't have a worry in the world about money, all he wanted to do was pursue his passion. It was disgustingly idiotic to Kenma that at first he couldn't even entertain the notion of being friends with such a carefree individual. Yet, Hinata had followed him around insisting he had some 'aura of a muse' and practically got on his hands and knees to beg Kenma to let him paint a portrait. Kenma had only asked one question. "Do I get modeling fees?"

A fairly unconventional way to start a relationship, but Hinata had an unconventional way of asking him out. He went on and on about Kenma being an angel sent to his life, destiny, finding true inspiration, and ended the speech with something about being together forever. Kenma hadn't really listened, but by this time he had calculated that Hinata's art sold for more than he imagined. Combined, their living cost could go down and there was substantial business to be had. Kenma was the one who invited Hinata into his apartment and the little man beamed brighter than a summer afternoon's clear sky.

That's how they came to be. It wasn't Kenma's love in Hinata as it was his love for the numbers he formulated in his mind (cut the rent, add the model fees, scratch the takeout because Hinata cooked). Kenma wasn't even sure Hinata really loved him. He figures, at some point the dense artist had figured out that Kenma wasn't into it like anybody else would. Surely, Hinata knew, right?

Anyway, how does Kenma explain all of that to Yaku who's looking at him like HE'S somehow the heartbroken one who's just gone through the worst breakup in the world? Kenma realizes he's never had so many doubts and questions before while dealing with others. Like video games that came with an instruction manual, people were fairly easy to read and manipulate accordingly. Their states, their elements, their buildup and what they carry with them told Kenma what type of character they were going to be. Needless to say, he's never seen a character like Yaku. Most people, at first glance, would say Yaku was short-tempered and mean. Kenma noticed Yaku's voice is just gruff when he's tired and he raises it only after he's told his incompetent co-worker for a whole week straight that the sandwiches need to be lined by expiration date. A week is a lot to hold out on, to be honest. Kenma would have fired the guy by the next day. Yaku didn't open up easily. He had a nice front to customers, an overly-refreshing smile, and a strict 'senpai' front for the people he had under his wing. Inside though, Kenma could see that he was like a young boy tossed into the pool to stay afloat. Big city, bright lights, little Yaku trying to swim through it all. He wanted love, he was lonely, but he didn't want to say it. More like, he didn't know how and who to say it to. There were several times Kenma wanted to reach out and tell him that he could just complain and whine to him. Yaku probably wouldn't have done so, however, because he wasn't used to it. He had grown up thinking he had to do great alone, that he couldn't be a burden else he couldn't receive affection, that he needed to be worthy in order to be looked upon with softness. It's definitely not the concept normal people have about love.

That's what made Kenma study him more. They were quite similar, weren't they? Kenma, who could only love things as they would never disappoint him, and Yaku who couldn't love himself but had infinite kindness to give to others? The thought briefly crossed his mind as Yaku handed him an extra drink on the house one day. He had smiled, told Kenma to pocket his money, and whispered that Kenma looked like he needed coffee if he was going to do the gaming stream that night. _He's nice. His smile is pretty._

Then it came like a wave every time. A minute glance from Yaku became hard to bear. Every time their eyes met Yaku would give a beautiful grin and Kenma would curse. _Fuck. I like that._ He'd stop himself from the ridiculous train of thought and rush out only to have Yaku run after him and pocket an extra energy bar into his coat. "Take care, Kenma." What the fuck was that. How was he supposed to calmly interpret someone who surprises him in every way possible.

It's the first time they drink together. Right in the front of the convenience store. It's a slow 2am, cars don't even pass by so they're crouched outside with two cans of beer. Yaku's tongue becomes loose and he lets Kenma in on his fears. Being alone, being nothing, never finding the one or never being ready to find them. Under the harsh lights, his brown hair ruffled by a nice breeze, his hand pressing against his own squishy cheek as he crouches like a child on the side, Yaku looks so vulnerable and small. That's when Kenma realizes he's screwed.

_Haha. I want to monopolize him. I want to dominate him. I want him._

More than money, more than subscriptions, more than tokens shot at him through a computer screen. Kenma wanted something far more addictive. Power. Over this lost, pure, innocent, hard-working, little soul who absolutely craves any form of affection and would soak it up like it's the only way to love. This person who has no conceptualizations, no fantasy, who hasn't had a taste of it and wouldn't know where to start. To taint him, to taste him, to fill him with himself and tell him that's the right way to love. Kenma wants that. His own character. One he developed, designed, constructed, made all the rules for. He shivers in pleasure as Yaku sniffled and rubbed his eyes.

_I found something, more worth it than money. More fun that games._

Of course, he never would have imagined that Kuroo would instantly swoop in and take a liking for his Yaku. It was annoying; especially so because he knew what a possessive freak Kuroo was. Unlike Kenma who didn't really care what Hinata did or where he went on those wild artist adventures, Kuroo needed to know every waking moment in Yaku's life. Such an annoyance. Yaku would often text Kuroo where he was, when he was heading back, sometimes Kenma would be surprised to see Yaku leaning in only to come to the bitter realization that he was asking for a selfie so he can prove to Kuroo that he was only hanging out with Kenma, not anybody else.

Annoying. It was damn annoying that Kuroo was touching up his character. Kenma realized he needed the controls back. If push came to shove and his best friend got mad at him, or tried to kill him Kenma knows he's acquired just as much as that golden spooned freak. Kuroo could try, but Kenma was fairly confident he could get his elimination in just as swiftly, just as cleanly. Money could cut all loose ends and sear them away, out of his sight. Of course, ideally Kuroo could be a decent kid and learn how to share. Not that Kenma was ecstatic about it, but then he wouldn't have to evade murder suspicions, and he had boundaries too. It would be really troublesome to kill Kuroo, so as long as his own life wasn't in danger, his friend's didn't have to be either.

Kenma steels his nerves and uncorks the bottle of alcohol he had on the table set out. Yaku had brought wine, but that wasn't going to be enough.

"I'm going to film a video to get my mind off things. Can you help me?" Kenma asks.

Yaku nods right away like that wasn't the weirdest request he's ever heard for someone going through heartbreak. He acted so naturally, like anything Kenma threw his way would go. Like he would do anything for his friend. Kenma knows that Yaku totally would.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Kenma grabs two cups and tilts his head towards a door. Yaku whispers a soft "sure" and follows right behind thinking to himself that Kenma probably just wants some blankets and warmth. Kenma pauses to turn and look at him, his golden eyes piercing Yaku's own melted chocolate brown ones; "you love me, right Yaku?" Yaku shyly adverts his gaze for a moment, probably thinking about what that loaded question meant. If he was conflicted thinking about his boyfriend at home, it was easily washed away by Kenma's next question, "as friends, could you do anything I wanted tonight?"

Yaku looks up with a determined pout, "of course! Anything for you, Kenma! That's what friends are for."

Kenma narrows his eyes and can't help but lick his lips as he shoves the door open. Right. Friends.

* * *

Kenma adjusts the stand and turns on the camera as Yaku, confused, asks him where he's going.

"Just adjusting the angle, neko-chan."

The cat mask is cute and comes with light brown ears that match perfectly with Yaku's hair. It was almost like the ears were his own. Kenma adjust his own mask before eagerly bounding over to the bed. While he would prefer studying all of Yaku's micro expressions, that could wait for the more intense rounds. First, he had promised a video, so some filming was in order, and he did not want to show his beauty to the whole world. That was his and his alone. Not even Kuroo could look at how he messed with Yaku. The thought that he could possess a memory, an intense night not even Yaku's official boyfriend could sends pleasant tingles down his bare spine.

Yaku did not hold his alcohol very well, a fact he shared himself while they drank some wine earlier that year together. Yaku had been responsible and limited himself, but Kenma knew how to work around cautious drinkers. Cocktail concoctions that are fruity and sweet on the tongue, but without a doubt burn up the insides. Plus, his magic little 'fizzy pill' that adds bubbles. Yaku was already a little too far gone to realize that if anybody else had placed one of those at a local bar they'd be arrested. Nonetheless, because he has the advantage of being a friend, Kenma coaxes the funny smelling drink into Yaku. He gives it a few minutes before completing his setup.

"Neh, Neko-chan," Kenma whispers by Yaku's ear. He earns a soft mewl. The bed dips as he lowers himself next to a burning Yaku. His eyes flutter and struggle to open wide like they usually do. The once alert gaze is muddled like a mist has been dragged over him. A veil of haze. "What's my name for the next 30 minutes?"

"M-master?" Yaku asks. It sounds more like he's confirming this with himself than actually asking Kenma, but it doesn't matter. He's so cute Kenma could combust with warmth. His chest aches, and all he wants to do is shove Yaku down while pounding him relentlessly. Kuroo probably saw this every day. Kenma knows that if Yaku lived with him 24 hours wouldn't be enough. Yaku would never leave the four walls that made this room. Kenma had always had a very good imagination - sometimes making the whole outside world into one rpg open world game for him to navigate around, mundane tasks becoming quests he could complete. His mind was working overdrive to imagine Yaku locked in his room, cuffed to his bed, a hole that was always ready for him. His own Yaku. Kenma looks down and realizes he's unbelievably hard without even doing anything yet. This might be a first.

Kenma softly runs his digits along Yaku's jaw, hooking his index finger under his chin and lifting it up. Yaku gently closes his eyes and hums, "Kur-"

Before the wretched name could roll out of Yaku's lips Kenma swoops in and seals them. Harshly. Maybe he shouldn't be so soft. How could he think about that damned psycho of a rooster in this situation?

Kenma was going to blow his brains and capture his big sweet heart. Kenma's sure there's space for him in there that Kuroo hasn't filled yet. While Yaku gradually melts, likely from the little 'happy substance' Kenma managed to slip into him, Kenma lowers his hand, palm connecting with the small bump of a jugular on Yaku's nice neck. Pushing with purpose, Kenma lowers Yaku so his back is on the mattress and checks quickly to see the cameras posed above his bedframes are all taking in the action.

Kenma makes a move to rip off the rest of their clothes when Yaku lets out a sob and a feeble no. He freezes. Yaku was fairly resilient in ways that still surprised him. Kenma hadn't used the aphorodisaic before, but from what he had heard it would reduce even the strongest to putty in his hands. Of course, his precious Yaku was different. The amount of independence he had for himself coupled with his love for his boyfriend. Yaku was damn commendable. Wonderful. Perfect. Kenma felt a jolt of excitement because he was about to steal such a man away for himself. He was about to have Yaku bend for him, change his will. It was painful to be this hard, at this point.

"Why?" Kenma asks, swiftly pulling Yaku's pants down.

Yaku covers his eyes and starts to cry, tears streaking his bright red cheeks. "K-kuroo, he-"

"He allowed this," Kenma deadpans. He figures he should be honest with Yaku. Perhaps Yaku would really come to appreciate his honesty.

Yaku sniffles and looks at him, perplexed, like he couldn't imagine why Kuroo would do such a thing. He was probably the type who hadn't had sex before Kuroo, probably had saved it for the one he truly loved, his 'soulmate.' It was a shame that the person he saved himself for was a dick.

"Think about it, kitty," Kenma lowers his voice to be just above a hushed whisper. His thumb slowly rubs the residue of Yaku's tears, smearing them dry. The shock must have stopped him from continuing to sob, but on the inside Kenma can almost see the moral turmoil mixing with alcohol and heated synthetic lust. "Has Kuroo ever denied what you wanted?" Yaku shyly shakes his head, his energy finally converging on his lower body, head swimming down, down, down. Kenma hold himself back from clapping in glee. "If you want something, if you feel good, if you're happy, then Kuroo promised you can have it, right? If he truly loved you, wouldn't Kuroo want you to do whatever makes you feel good?"

Yaku nods, opening his mouth and panting. Kenma can almost feel the moist heat emitting off of the body under him. "Answer me, kitty," Kenma sits up and pushes himself back, his ass rubbing against the bump in Yaku's boxers. Yaku's hips involuntarily bucks as his eyes widen. "I don't wanna be the bad guy here," Kenma pouts, leaning in, "if you love this and want this, wouldn't Kuroo allow it?"

"yesh~" Yaku practically dissolves from Kenma's purposeful touches, "K-kuroo loves me, he wants me to feel good," he sobs.

Kenma actually clasps both of his hands together in victory, "Correct! Now, do you want ME to make you feel good?"

"Yes~~ ken-"

Kenma clamps his hand down on Yaku's mouth. "That's not right, neko-chan," his singsong voice matches the frenzied cheshire smile flitting across his lips as his eyes practically glow. They lock onto Yaku who whimpers under him.

"Yes, master."

* * *

As soon as the timer of his camera beeps telling him it's done, Kenma yanks Yaku's mask off and then his own. He had planned on going all the way on cam, but convincing Yaku to go through with this and prepping him had taken up all the time. He didn't care though. Fuck the viewers, they pay miniscule amounts anyway, they were nothing. Shut-ins behind a computer who threw him a few bucks monthly had no right to his Yaku, they had no right to see this. He does look up and see the cameras by his bed and around his room still filming. Tsk. It'd be a hassle to turn them all off. Well. Kenma supposes it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go back and relive this at every angle. He licks his lips as he salivates to the delicious idea. Even if Kuroo got him back at the end of the day, Kenma had a piece of Yaku that was his own.

While he's checking the cameras Yaku's moan brings him right back to reality and Kenma even feels guilt for having been distracted. Guilt? Him? Well, this was many firsts, for sure. Kenma had been warming the gel and rubbing Yaku's thighs, the rim of muscle that was a pretty pink, it twiched every time Kenma came close but barely missed.

"Say my name," Kenma demands

Yaku opens his eyes and shivers at the way Kenma was looking down on him, his eyes hooded, feelings of such intensity were in them that Yaku couldn't really read WHAT they were. He felt like he had to obey though, and his body responded before he could think straight. "Kenma! Please," Yaku moves himself so that the tip of Kenma's middle finger pushes past the tight ring of muscles and into his hole. Yaku doesn't know what he was expecting, but he gasps at the sensation as Kenma scrapes along his walls and enters before pulling back. A feeble voice reaches Kenma's ears, "please..."

"Whatever you want," Kenma grunts as he forces himself into Yaku, who wasn't even properly stretched. It felt nice and tight and hotter that way.

Yaku squeezes his eyes shut as tears quickly slip down his face. He's crying, but he doesn't know why. It doesn't really hurt like it's supposed to. Even prepped the first time it pentetrates always brings sharp pain that shoots through.. well, everything. Except this time it skips that pain and goes right to good. Good. So good. Great. Yaku's tightly anticipating jaw slackens as drool dribbles down his chin.

"Ah! Kenma~" Yaku whines, his voice high and cracking at the end - giving like it's at it's limit too. Kenma calms a bit to regain some composure, pulling Yaku's legs down so his hands aren't occupied propping them up. He lays Yaku's nice slim thighs around his hips before leaning down to give him a kiss. Yaku melts, being the first to slip his tongue into Kenma's mouth and push his tongue around, mixing their saliva. Kenma could get used to this. He mindlessly brings a hand up to Yaku's nipple and pushes on it.

"N-no," Yaku protests, giving Kenma a small and feeble push off of him so they separate, "not my nipples, they're sensitive." He suddenly brings his hands up to cover his tear ridden face like it's just occurred to him this is embarrassing. Kenma smirks.

"They're inverted," he notes, matter-of-factly, "are they sensitive because they've been suched out?" Yaku quickly moves his head up and down in a nod, affirming Kenma's theory. "Shame," Kenma breaths, just below a whisper. Yaku tilts his head because he's missed that (actually he thinks he's missing a lot. The room is hot and Kenma smells like soap, and his head is spinning but fuzzy all at once. Besides that, nothing registers. Not the fiery orange glow of the sunset or the mechanical whirring of cameras all over).

"It's a shame that he got to taste these before me, but... what can I do?" Kenma shrugs before brining his hand up and leaves a gossamer, ticklish trail up Yaku's torso. He makes a peace sign with his two fingers that spreads out Yaku's areola, the slightly swollen pink looks beautiful, but when Kenma looks he also sees the twinkling gold of the ring around his finger. Hinata had gotten down on a knee all chessy and extra during one of their outings. Kenma had wanted to die because everybody looked and clapped and the waitress cried while he just felt like Hinata was trying to trap him into a public box of humiliation. So many human eyes, looking at him, focusing on him. It took all of Kenma's self control to stop the ringing in his ears and focus on grinding his teeth in anger as Hinata beamed, carefree. He went on and on in his obnoxious voice about how this ring was custom made, intricate designs around the band, and it was his creation, something Hinata wanted to see around Kenma forever. It felt like a damned shackle. Kenma reminded himself every time he felt it was a nuisance that Hinata paid half his rent. Now though, as it shone in the sunset, it burned his hand. "Tsk," Kenma makes an annoyed face as he yanks off the ring and throws it across the room. It lands somewhere with a light hearted twink. Kenma doesn't care anymore; he was serious about pleasing Yaku.

"Kenma?" Yaku asks.

Kenma doesn't respond. Instead, he puts his hand back to where it was before, kneading and pinching the sensitive skin. He lays his tongue flat on the other nipple earning an elated gasp from Yaku. He presses down, the body of his tongue applying a good amount of pressure before suddenly pulling back. He retracts his tongue to move it out of the way so he can suck with force.

"Kyanma!" Yaku squeezes around Kenma, his body going tense.

"What the hell was that," Kenma winches, letting out a growl, "fuck. That was so adorable, the hell?" Kenma moves his hips, trying to pull all the way out to thrust in, but Yaku wouldn't even let him do that. "You're sucking me in, you won't let me go," Kenma almost laughs. This was amazing. His baby was so greedy, it was like Yaku didn't want to be empty without him.

"You like me being in you? You like your nipples being played with?" Yaku sobs as Kenma scraps his small blunt nail into his nipple, like he's going to dig it out. The one he sucked out is perking up, unlike its counterpart. "Answer me," Kenma demands.

"YES!" Yaku weeps.

"Good answer," Kenma forcefully pulls out before slamming back into him, gritting his teeth along the way. "Let's see what else makes you feel good," Kenma shakily maintains his balance while bringing his index finger down to press right above Yaku's navel, rubbing the sweaty skin there.

Yaku moans as he squeezes around Kenma. "I'm gonna co-"

Kenma grins as he thrusts faster, pushing Yaku completely off the edge and cutting his whole sentence short as his eyes roll back. Kenma marvels at the face he sees, mouth agape, tongue sticking out slightly, eyes that lost focus, but a clearly satiated expression. He wants to see it everyday. He considers overstimulating Yaku, just because it would be fun and he'd get to see what kind of reaction he'd have, but Kenma has to restrain himself. He doesn't want to break the boy's surprised body. Kenma pulls out - so close to climaxing anyway that he only has to pump himself twice before he releases into his palm.

"In me~" Yaku pouts, he had gotten up and turned around, fully facing Kenma who was sitting on the bed.

"What?"

"You're still hard," Yaku licks his lips, but it's useless as the drool keeps dribbling down his loose open mouth, "I want it in me~ I wanna take all your cum, I wanna come again, I want you in me," he whines.

"Ha," Kenma sighs. "You should be illegal... I wanna lock you up, Yaku." Kenma yanks Yaku closer, sitting him up and filling both his hands with Yaku's ample, round, soft ass. "You came already, but you still wanna come?" he asks, pulling Yaku down onto him. It was easier this time, surprisingly, and Kenma realizes for the first time what it's like to love someone so much you're continuously hard and never truly satisfied. He's never wanted a game NOT to end before, but he could go on about this all day. Every day. Forever. The whimpers and pleased cries Yaku made, the sound of skin slapping together, the squelching as a cum-lathered Yaku begged to be filled to the brim, it all facilitated a euphoric high that Kenma never wanted to come down from. He could live off of it. It could be his food, his mana, his fuel, whatever, he didn't need anything else.

"YESH~" Yaku cries, "SHO DEEP! IT FEELS SO GOOD!" Yaku squeezes Kenma closer as he's bounced up and down relentlessly. Kenma's free hand travels meticulously up Yaku's spine, feeling the tiny dips where his vertebra stuck out and swooped back in.

"You're beautiful," Kenma suddenly murmurs. He knows, Yaku's not even really listening. His blood is probably rushing, completely filled and overflowing with the energy of his drug. He didn't care, Kenma just felt like saying it. He meant it this time. It wasn't a pleasant empty complement like the ones he threw his streaming acquaintances or the call boys who liked being praised during sex in hopes of feeling like they were actually making love with someone significant. Kenma meant it. He wanted Yaku to know that he thought he was beautiful. "Every part of you, is so beautiful."

Perhaps, Kenma can finally understand Hinata when he said that a person could be art. Living, walking, and breathing, but worthy of being preserved in a museum for eternity. So ethereal they could be stared at for hours, sucking people in to line up around them. It does peeve Kenma that his mind has somehow wondered to Hinata during all of this, but he couldn't help it. He had spent too much time with him to not be influenced. Kenma moves his hand trying to find Yaku's - his arm is wrapped around Kenma's shoulder and clutching his nape, digits in his long dirty blonde hair. Kenma pulls his arm down and Yaku's hand easily slips into his waiting one. They intertwine their fingers like it was a natural instinct. Kenma likes the smoothness of Yaku's hands, he likes that it's completely skin on skin and the tender ring of soft flesh that used to be choked by a ring was free to be rubbed against Yaku's fingers.

"YOUR DICK! I LOVE IT~~~ MORE!" Yaku screaming at him.

Kenma chuckles. The drug was a funny thing - at first it didn't seem like it was working all too well, but after he came once it seemed to have riled him up. Whereas usually people are okay with stopping after a go (especially when they bottom, Kenma knows), Yaku was actually begging for more. It was amusing, but Kenma wanted to humor him.

"What do you want, Yaku? You have to tell me. Clearly, so I can hear it. What should I do with my cock?"

"Cock-" Yaku bawls, almost incoherent from the panting and mewling that were mixed in every time he opened his mouth, "Move your cock please, I want your milk in me!" Tears are rolling down his face and he's weeping like it's unfair he hasn't been filled and overflowing. Kenma tenderly kisses his cheeks and tips them over so that he's once again over Yaku, their hands still connected.

"I don't want my baby to be sad, so I'll fill you up really good, ok?"

Yaku spread his legs more and nods his head, sniffling.

Kenma lowers himself so he's right by Yaku's ear. Ah. "It'd be good if you could get pregnant with my child. I'll dump all my semen in you, do you want my baby?"

Yaku nods enthusiastically. Kenma pulls back surprised by the eager response. Yaku brings his free hand down, laying his palm and spreading his fingers over his flat stomach which went up and down with every tired breath he took. Yaku smiles, his eyes crinkled but still visible as they were a sliver open, "I want your babies in my tummy."

Kenma licks his lips. His eyes glint in the last waning streaks of sun as day turns to twilight turns to night. It's like something snaps awake in him - a carnal instinct, one may call it. In simpler terms he couldn't get it together. His mind was out of it, filled with one word. _Mine. Yaku's mine. His body is mine, his mind is mine, his babies are all going to be mine. He's my toy. He's my game. His moans, his eyes, his tongue, his neck, his nipples, everything's mine._

"Have my babies then, and stay with me forever."

His phone dings on the nightstand. Probably Kuroo asking if he's done or Hinata trying to interrupt him or people subscribing to his channels. Who the fuck cared? The world could shut up. They could keep their damned money, their ideals, their gushy-mushy feelings for him, they could all disappear forever. He was with the only one who was fun. The only one who mattered. The only one he wanted. _And now he's mine._

* * *

Kenma's done cleaning and taking Yaku to a clean bed in the guest room when the sing-song chimes on his front door beep and he hears the heavy metal open up.

"You're late. I thought you'd get here by now," Kenma deadpans. He hears the fumbling of shoes being kicked off and turns to the silence. It was rare that Hinata didn't greet him with ample enthusiasm and open arms.

"You took off the ring," Hinata looks down at Kenma's bare finger and frowns. Not only had he taken it off, he hadn't even the decency to make an effort and look for it to put it back on. Hinata could tell the end was coming - he had known for a while now. He tried everything to stop the inevitable. He was always looking at Kenma - his beauty, his number 1, his muse. How could he not notice when gazes shifted from his gaming device to the little man behind the counter? How could he not notice the lips bites that were self-induced so Kenma wouldn't blurt out his feelings for Yaku-san? How could he not notice that Kenma's eyes were always trained somewhere else? There was no way he wouldn't notice it. He was always, always looking at Kenma. Hinata didn't want Kenma stolen from him. He was his everything. Hinata had even gone as far as to offer letting Yaku stay in their apartment while the stalker incident was happening because then (at the very least) maybe Kenma would stay too. Maybe, by some crazy turn of events, the one who hated sharing would let him stay. He could be an observer, he didn't need anything. Not affection or time or even effort - he could do all of that. Hinata just wanted to stay by Kenma's side. Kenma had refused the offer and let Yaku stay with Kuroo. He came up with a half-baked excuse about the stalker possibly hurting Hinata, but by this time Hinata understood. He was nothing to Kenma. Actually, he was a nuisance. He was just in the way, and Kenma didn't even want to show Yaku-san to Hinata more than necessary (as if Yaku-san would wear out from Hinata's gaze).

"That's the first thing you notice?" Kenma quirked an eyebrow and stretches before starting to tie his hair up.

"Of course, you're my muse so I-"

"Muse! Muse! MUSE! That's all you ever spout. Don't you ever stop to think I feel burdened by that? I really don't get you at all," Kenma vehemently spits.

Hinata's eyebrows knit together, "it's true! I've never seen someone so radiant! You're exactly like the godly creatures in the books I read as a kid, what got me into art! I traveled the world and none of the statues or paintings could ever compare to you. Your face during sex is-"

"Enough," Kenma spits, "If you recorded what you saw today delete it."

Hinata's jaw tightens as he bawls his fists, "why? I wasn't even looking at Yaku-san, he's barely in the frame."

Kenma pulls a disgusted face. The audacity he had baffles Hinata. They had agreed. They had made a contract, even. When Kenma accepted his terms, he had promised that whenever sex was involved there'd be no attached feelings and Hinata could record all of them for his reference material. It was clear today that the promise was broken. Kenma not only had strings attached it was amazing him that put them there. The one who had stated feelings were a nuisance and were not beneficial to him had gone and made some gross heartfelt connection. They used to be the same - only looking at one common purpose that could be enhanced by the presence of the other and thus was mutually beneficial.

Money, for Kenma. Art, for himself.

When had things gone wrong? Somehow before he knew it, his muse had slipped between his fingers and became a new man.

Hinata didn't do sex. There was nothing artistic about it. It was painful, people lost all rational, there was sweat, it smelled rancid afterwards, and nothing about it was inspiring. Most times it was hard to even get him turned on enough to agree. What WAS art was observing. Watching humans in their natural state with their guards completely down. It was something about stripping down to just the bare skin that made people shy and vulnerable. It was like part of their identity was in the uniforms they wore everyday and the clothes on their back. Seeing that false societal role yanked away and only the bare human left was the most exciting thing. The sounds people made when pleasured, the faces they had. One couldn't tell if they were bliss or pain or sadness unless there was context. That's where his good cinematography came in. He had a minor in film production because it had really interested him early on. Old movies from back when there was no sound, when the whole story was just by the movement of humans. Hinata decided, then, that he'd find the most person who was beautiful and graceful during sex.

He had found it in Kenma. It was like any other day, he was going through countless feeds and cameras all marked off by the location he had placed them when the pop of pudding-like hair that was tied in a messy bun showed up on his screen. The man was slightly taller than he was, a small build, and comically apathetic about the whole ordeal. It was like sex was a boring old game he had played over and over and over again. He knew all the controls, but this boss was just that - plain. He was clearly a bottom, but here he was, sitting on top of the man and moving his own hips. He had total control and looked down at the 'top' like he was a loser. A bug that was squashed under his expensive shoes. Hinata had frantically looked around the room to remember which hotel it was before rushing to it. He had found him. His muse.

After that it was pretty self explanatory. Of course, Kenma hadn't been happy to be watched.

"Spycams are a crime, you know."

Hinata, knowing full well that society has deemed his innocent expedition for art as a lowly term like a 'crime' had been prepared with a counter. Even Jesus was opposed, you know! One had to be ready in this day and age. "I didn't think you had such amazing upstanding morals, Kenma-san. After all, that camera did find that you stole the man's credit card after he was passed out."

Kenma tsks, "I only paid for the hotel room. He would have if he were awake." He was a lot of things, but he wasn't a thief. He always earned his money.

Hinata beamed. So it was money that made this one tic. "I can pay for all your hotel rooms."

If Kenma had been ready to get up from his seat and leave the cafe, he stops.

Ding ding ding.

"Sit down," Hinata offered.

That's how they decided to 'go out' within a day. The terms were set, the prices matched, Kenma modeled for him immediately in the studio, and Hinata had the jittery excitement of knowing what it was like to find a partner who understood you. Your grand purpose, someone who saw the forest instead of the trees. It had all been going so well. They even developed this semi-decent system of respect. They matched schedules, worked around each other, sometimes offered each other very normal services like meals and such without a price or ulterior motive. It had been going well.

"If only Yaku didn't-"

"Don't you dare say that name," Kenma steps closer, murderous intent in the purposeful drop of his foot and threatening gashing of his teeth.

Hinata holds up both his hands in surrender. Kenma would probably do it. Kill him, that is. "I'm sorry."

Kenma crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, tilting his chin up to look down on Hinata. "There's no need. Now go. Clearly, as you can see, we're done."

"You have to pay all the rent now," Hinata knows it's a feeble last-ditch effort. He wants to squeeze into Kenma's life in any way possible so he could keep observing him, but by the way Kenma was stalking to the 'art' room Hinata had to throw out his stuff it was evident they were through. The contract was done.

"I'll pay for all of your stuff to be moved and the breach of contract," Kenma huffs, pulling out boxes of photos Hinata had taken on his adventures.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Hinata whispers. Awed. Maybe he should take a closer proper look at the one who had made his ice angle such a wreck. He steps up and strains his neck to look through the semi-open door of their guest room when Kenma definitely steps into his line of sight like he's shielding something precious. Like a dragon who sits on their gold. It was almost heartbreaking to Hinata how much his favourite had fallen from the uncaring golden throne of absolute power. Now they had a gaping weakness by the name of Yaku Morisuke.

"Fine," Hinata shrugs, "how lame. I'll go look for more inspiration somewhere else. You can keep the ring."

Kenma rolls his eyes, "I'm going to throw it out. As well as all the disgusting perverted pictures you don't take."

Hinata glares. Kenma had never quite approved, but he had also never been so flat out critical of his works or called them such a lowly term. "I'm taking all of them. And mind you, these photos are what racked in the money so we could pay this rent!"

Kenma snorts, "I can pay this rent with a day's worth of streaming. You have to be gone for weeks and cross dress to get into bathrooms and hotels installing cameras like a madman. Not to mention when you camp out at parks in bushes to get school girl's legs. What are you, the paparazzi?"

"I'm an artist!" Hinata cries, stacking his boxes. Thousands of pictures, all taped with stickies that mark their prices. 2000¥ for legs, 3000¥ for black stocking or pantyhoses, 4500¥ for a school girl with her leg crossed (it was 4000¥ if they were uncrossed, Hinata realized there were separate markets for those!) The big bucks came from underwear shots where he'd leave the camera by the floor and angle a book or two under the lense for optimal tilt, and of course his cameras. Harassment sold really well, the market for rape was growing, and the vanilla love-hotel cam with a twist of 'these are two guys' had millions of clicks on his dark web.

People loved his work.

Capturing the natural curve of the body, using human anatomy to make it sensual, it was an art to capture these passing everyday moments with a good eye. Only a gifted artist like himself had the technique and the knack for it. He was the Michelangelo of the modern era and the number of people who sought him out only increased every day.

"Well then you'll have no problem making it out there. Now goodbye," Kenma scoffs.

Hinata closes his eyes and sighs. Maybe they didn't understand each other as much as he had thought.

"Goodbye. I know you don't want to hear it, but you were a good muse."

Kenma swallows like he has something sour in his mouth, "thank you too, for being my partner."

Hinata chuckles, it was funny because that word was technically wrong and right at the same time. "I wish you luck, Kenma. Objectively speaking, Yaku-san is very pretty."

"But you can't see why I fell for him," Kenma observes. He knew how Hinata worked (as eccentric and weirdly wired as he was.)

"Yeah. I don't see what makes him special. But! Since you and Kuroo-san seem to, I'll see how it turns out. I'll root for you."

Kenma pulls a face and sticks out his tongue, but doesn't look wholly unpleased by the declaration, "alright. I'll convince Kuroo somehow. I definitely won't lose him."

Hinata licks his lips. You know, the fire in Kenma's eyes and the determination of his gaze as he turns towards Yaku was a new thing he didn't think he'd ever seen before. It was nice. Almost... exciting. He could no longer film Kenma (and knowing the man's temper if he was caught trying he'd be thrown into the ocean somewhere as fishfood). However, Hinata thinks he'll still see some fun out of him. The three people, a totally maniac Kuroo-san, his lil fallen incubus Kenma, and the nicknamed 'devil' Yaku-san who was more fit to be an innocently seductive witch; how that story unfolds? It's never been written in his greek mythology fantasy novels or renaissance art fables or even the textbooks he practically memorized in school, but Hinata's willing to wait and see how the ending goes.

It'd be much more interesting than anything he's laid his eyes on before - that much was guaranteed.

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly I can't write smut, and I don't like how this story flows really, but this was all I could do after 3 weeks of writing and editing T^T pretty sad
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (By this point you may think the pattern is 'whoever is least suspicious is most suspicious, which ok that's a writing flaw of mine, but next time it won't be so obvious).
> 
> TMI: Some may ask "why do you write such horrible stories?" - Because I write about real life. Reading a fic actually helped me realize I had been gaslighted by my parents for 20 years. Every time I was beat up (bones broken, bruised face, cut up with a knife, burned by a fire, humiliated in public) they'd say "it's your fault, if you knew we had a bad temper why did you test us and make us angry? This isn't abuse, this is us loving you and wanting you to grow up as a kind hearted person who doesn't make others mad. Other people kill their kids or starve them or kick them out, but we don't because we love you." I think people grow up thinking exactly as they are told if that's the only environment they have. I just want to say everything, even the sweet phrases the characters say like "you're beautiful, I love you" paired with horrible behaviours are TOXIC and at least in this way readers get it WITH A WARNING TAG and see it as it is.
> 
> Everything I write about has either happened to me, someone I know, or is based on a real case study / news I have seen.
> 
> The darkness, bugs, high places, small spaces - none of those scare me.
> 
> I think humans are the scariest creatures in the world...


End file.
